The private jet is fun, but now when you’re being flown to a stuffy pathetic boarding school. Ugh.
I can’t believe my parents are doing this to me!
I normally try to sleep on planes because I get nervous from the turbulence, but today I am wide awake. My stomach is in knots, and I can’t even drink the orange juice that comes with my in-flight breakfast, and that’s saying something because I love orange juice. In just a few hours I’ll be deposited at Shelfbrooke Academy and I don’t even know what to do once I get there. Charlie’s notes in my email say my Aunt Kate will pick me up. But I’m not sure I can remember what she looks like. It’s been a long time.
I can’t believe my parents are doing this to me. I keep hoping this is some kind of cruel joke, a prank my very well-mannered parents decided to do just to get a laugh. Even though that’s not like them at all, I still hold onto the hope. I keep expecting them to pop out from the back cabin in the plane and yell “Got you!” and laugh and laugh and say it was all just a joke.
But, of course, that doesn’t happen.
Viv told me I should make a big deal about my moving away on Snapchat, but I decided against it. I made her swear not to tell anyone that I’m leaving. Maybe I can just disappear mysteriously for a few months and people will wonder where I am. It can be an interesting secret and it’ll make my California friends eager to see me again. Maybe I’ll get even more popular from this. So long as Viv keeps her promise. Now that she has Henry in her sights, she probably won’t be thinking about me at all.
The plane lands way sooner than I want it to. Touching down on the New England runway means I’m here. It means my Malibu life is halted, put on hold for several months. It means everything is going to change, and not in a good way like when you get a nose job.
These changes suck.
I grab my suitcase and shuffle down the fold out stairs and onto the tarmac. Inside the small private airport, a few people mull around. None of them look like my aunt. I chew on the inside of my lip, checking my phone, hoping someone has sent me some kind of instructions on what to do. But Charlie has left me on my own, it seems.
About ten minutes go by, with me standing here feeling out of place for the first time in my life, and finally I see a tall guy wearing skinny jeans and a plaid jacket, walking around like he’s looking for someone. We make eye contact.
“Sophia Brass?”
“Yes,” I say, relief flooding over me. “Are you my ride?”
“Yes ma’am,” he says, gesturing for me to follow him. “My car is right out here.”
I quickly discover that when he saidcar, he meant car. Like a regular car.
I frown as he puts my suitcase into the trunk and I climb into the backseat, noticing the rideshare logo stuck to the window. This is a ride share car. Not a private car. I’ve never been in a rideshare car in my life. That’s something people without trust funds do. Ugh.
The guy is polite, but he likes to talk, and it’s annoying. The drive takes forever, but soon he’s pulling into the driveway of some kind of old apartment complex. The red bricks match all the other houses we’ve driven by, and there’s a large gate around the parking lot, all covered with vines. But this is clearly an apartment complex, not a school. At least –gosh—I hope this isn’t the school.
“Where are we?” I ask.
“Umm, your destination?” he says, checking his phone. “Kate’s home?”
I laugh. “Ah. Okay. Cool.”
This isn’t my new school.
I waiver for a minute, wondering if I’m supposed to tip him. I mean, probably, right? I reach in my purse and take out a hundred-dollar bill and hand it over. “Thank you for driving me.”
His eyes bug out, then he holds up his hand. “I can’t accept that.”
“Why not?” I hold it out to him again. “I’m tipping you. That’s what people do with rideshares, right?”
He grins, and little wrinkles form in the crease of his eyes. He dresses like he’s twenty, but he’s probably closer to forty. “Ms. Kate has already tipped me through the app.”
“Oh,” I say, feeling my cheeks flush. I shrug. “Well, take it anyway, please. It’s my parents’ money if it makes you feel any better.”
He stares at the hundred-dollar bill for a long moment and then he finally takes it. “Thank you. I appreciate it.”
I get out of the car and stare up at the large building in front of me. There are five front doors, five sidewalks going up to them, and five numbers on each door. I have no idea which one belongs to my Aunt Kate. I turn around to ask the driver if he knows, but he’s already pulling out of the parking lot. Great. Just great.
Charlie’s one and only email just told me some information about my new school. I’d ignored it because I was angry, but maybe it has my aunt’s address on it.
I pull out my phone and scroll through the email. Sure enough, it does. It even says I should look for an Uber driver at the airport. Oops. Maybe I should have read this.
Aunt Kate’s condo is the third one. My heart pounds in my chest as I walk up to it. Why do I feel so sick? Why do I feel like the sky is falling and my life is ending? It’s only a few months, I remind myself. This will be okay. I’ll survive.
